Fireflies
by de-anon
Summary: Although mechanical fireflies have overwhelmed the machine-dependent world Alfred F. Jones lives in, he is determined to repair his plane and take to the skies. (Oneshot spin-off of Greater than the Sum)


**A USUK spin-off of "Greater than the Sum"**

**Same universe, but different continuity as aforementioned story. Basically am just carrying over the concept of the fireflies to a new storyline for a one-off story, which is for a contest on dA**

**might consider fleshing this out into a multichap when I'm done with a few other stories.**

* * *

The rate the fireflies now proliferated, machinery was nearly impossible to maintain. Alfred F. Jones learned this the hard way, sitting among the wrenches and rivets in his garage as he stared at the empty husk of his old plane. The parasitic little viruses had eaten away at any attempts of repair; it only took a few missing gears to render even the largest machine useless.

One hand still clutching his goggles, Alfred organized the parts he did have, sealing them away in large glass jars.

The crunch of boots on gravel wore away at the silence of an evening barely disturbed by the rustle of wind in the trees. Alfred lifted his head.

Arthur Kirkland, long time friend and ex-mechanic strode in, cloaked wrapped tightly about his shoulders until he swung the door shut behind him. "There's a sandstorm brewing, I think," he murmured.

Alfred shook his head, "The winds aren't quite strong enough. It'll blow out before it even picks anything up." As he stood, he brushed off his leather pants and readjusted his flight jacket, though he left his goggles and scarf pooled on the ground.

Arthur only shook his head with a sigh. "Desperate for the skies, are you," he commented. It wasn't a question.

Alfred nodded. "I mean—I can live without all the machinery of yesterday—really—but the minute they take away my wings it's—it's just…I don't know what to do with myself." He stepped over a pile of scrap metal, brushing past Arthur as he tapped the door open to stand in the waving grasses and the moonlit fields of what was once his landing strip. "I want to feel free again, Arthur." His head fell backward with a long sigh as he stared up at the stars. "I want to touch the sky…"

Quietly, Arthur placed himself beside his friend, his hand a gentle touch on his shoulder. "I know…"

In the distance the carcasses of broken dirigibles lay rotting open like the skeletons of fallen beasts. The smokestacks from the distant city still hazed in mist no longer spewed smog into the air. For the first time in centuries, the stars were unhindered by pollution, galaxies swirling and twisting closer than ever and yet further out of reach for those like Alfred. In the wake of it all, dense cities fell apart to scatter into the countryside where an agrarian lifestyle of the past took root.

Arthur shared in his pang of sadness, hanging his head a little and licking at his lips as he struggled for something to say. He settled with a humorless chuckle. "Some pest problem."

Alfred only scoffed a little bit. "They really are a strange concept, those fireflies," he muttered, glancing out where the grasses rolled with the hills, swaying with the wind as it picked up and died again. "I'd swear they are sentient."

Moonbeams fell like mosaics through the trees and illuminated the flash of the fireflies as they bobbed and weaved idle currents through the night. Built from whatever spare parts they could rip from a machine, they were eclectic at best, sometimes built from one or two whirring gears and a bulb that blinked on and off again. There was no purpose to their existence, yet still they reproduced and floated along in the world they had destroyed.

Destroyed, improved—-depending on who you asked.

This time Arthur's laugh was real. His fingertips brushed against Alfred's. "My purpose for visiting is actually two-fold."

"Oh?"

Digging into his pocket, Arthur produced a pocketwatch, which he dangled from a silver chain. Adorned with etched roses, it flashed into the moonlight as it twisted slowly. A few fireflies came to investigate, landing on its face and scratching at the glass with spindly legs. The watch ticked on the hour.

"You—-how do you have something like that?" Alfred asked.

He tried to snatch it away—to shove it back into a pocket where it would be safe from the fireflies—but Arthur dangled it just out of reach, shaking his head with a devious grin in his eyes. "I've figured out a solution," Arthur said. "Maybe not for massive machinery, but for something small—I've used alchemy to seal the parts. The fireflies can't rip it apart. Can't steal so much as one gear."

Alfred blinked. "You mean you made it virus proof?"

"Yes," Arthur answered as he flicked the offending insect from his watch so he could drop it back into his pocket. "If you rebuild your plane, I will do the same for you." He put a hand over Alfred's mouth before he could exclaim his delight and continued speaking. "On the condition that you show me the skies. Take me flying. I want to see what's got you so worked up over the whole ordeal."

Eyes shining impossibly bright, Alfred nodded eagerly until Arthur removed his hand. "Oh god, wow, Art—" He hesitated though, mouth falling shut as his brows knit. "The problem is that I don't have all the parts and of course no one sells them anymore, considering."

Arthur scoffed and rapped on his head with his knuckles. "You've got a decent brain in you, contrary to popular belief. Work out a solution."

"I—you're right—" Alfred exclaimed. He dashed inside and reappeared with a butterfly net and a large jar, making a swoop for one of the flies.

Startled, Arthur stepped aside. "Exactly what are you doing?"

"The fireflies are what ate the parts in the first place—" Alfred exclaimed breathlessly. Another swipe captured several, which he dumped into a jar. "If I catch enough, I can dismantle them and reclaim what they've stolen."

"Well that certainly is a solution…" Arthur said, shaking his head. "In the meantime, I will be frequenting a few towns nearby. I'll do my best to scrounge around if you give me a list of parts. Surely you'll need wheels and rotary blades and rivets."

Alfred nodded and threw his free hand out to shake Arthur's. "You've got yourself a deal."

"It's a date, then," Arthur said.

For the first time in months, the stars and the fireflies that imitated them held promise.


End file.
